


In a Dream I Was a Werewolf

by RavensRedShadow



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Arthur & Cobb Friendship, Because there isn't enough werewolf au, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavensRedShadow/pseuds/RavensRedShadow
Summary: Eames is a werewolf. Arthur has known this all along but suddenly it seems like a much bigger deal.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been a project I've been working on for a long time now. After working on this on and off for a while I've finally gotten this to a point where I feel like I can post it. 
> 
> A bit different than my usually Walking Dead fics I love Arthur/Eames and thought I'd try my hand at a longer Inception fic.
> 
> Rating may go up as this goes on and I will add tags as they become applicable. 
> 
> Please enjoy (and be gentle with me, this is my first long Inception fic)!

 

> _“A werewolf is a changeling, representing transformation. This can represent a transformation in one’s life or in themselves.”_

* * *

Arthur was five years old when the first images appeared on the news. Werewolves. There had been pictures coming in for years, grainy, blurry, and about a convincing as the Loch Ness Monster but that had all changed with the video.

Amateur and out of focus, it still perfectly captured what looked like a young woman turning into a wolf. Some people believed it and some didn’t, but by the time he was an adult and had joined the military everyone had pretty much come to the realization that they might not be alone. That there really might be creatures that went bump in the night.

Arthur heard a lot about werewolves, especially on long nights overseas with a bunch of stir-crazy soldiers. Everyone seemed to have a story, a glimpse of something not quite human beyond enemy lines, a wolf’s howl right before an attack, but he’d never had a story of his own. He never thought he would, but years after he’d quit the army and joined the dream share business he got his story.

Arthur met his werewolf.

* * *

“So what’s so special about this new forger, Cobb?” Arthur fiddled with his shirt cuffs. He always went into first meetings looking his best.

“He’s one of the best forgers I’ve ever met. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like him.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at his longtime partner.

Cobb might be a veteran of Dream Sharing but he was woefully inept at judging ability. He got over excited by raw talent, unable to judge if the person would really be able to polish themselves; Cobb was all about the potential. In all his years working with him, Arthur had come to loathe that word. 

“We’ll see.” Arthur straightened his jacket smoothing out the perfectly tailored lines even though he knew they were flawless.

Cobb grabbed at Arthur’s wrist as he reached for the door knob. Arthur glared at Cobb but the other man’s eyes were solemn. “He’s a were’.”

A were’. Arthur rolled the idea around in his head.

The first time he’d ever heard about werewolves he, like most of the sane population in the world, had dismissed the idea of wolf men as something out of a storybook. It didn’t matter how many new sightings were reported, he was still skeptical. But after years in a business that was just as mystical as any shape changing creature, Arthur had waved his judgment.

Why couldn’t wolf men exist? He’d seen men topple buildings with their bare hands and change their face until they were unrecognizable. Granted that was all in a dream world, but just because he’d never seen a were’ himself didn’t mean he hadn’t heard of people who had.

“Should I be expecting a giant wolf behind that door, Cobb?” Arthur asked dryly.

“No, but I thought I’d warn you. Some people have reservations about working with a were’.” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.

“Cobb, I’ll work with anyone who can get the job done. He could be a leprechaun for all I care. As long as it doesn’t influence the job I couldn’t give a damn how he spends his full moons.”

“Knew I could count on you, Arthur.” 

“Yeah, let’s just meet this guy first,” Arthur said rolling his eyes. Cobb smiled and opened the creaking door.

A man stood in the middle of the abandoned warehouse, his back to them, looking like he’d dressed in the dark. He was wearing an atrocious orange sweater with pea green slacks. He looked human enough but the second he turned to face them Arthur knew he wasn’t. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so clear to the average person on the street, after all, Arthur prided himself on being able to read people and pick up on their secrets – a necessity of the job. But he suspected even the average onlooker would be able to tell there was something _other_ about this man.

He was large – all muscle under that hideous sweater – and he moved like an animal, assured in his strength and grace. But what showed his true nature without a doubt were his eyes.

His eyes were gold, wolf-like in their sharpness and color but undoubtedly human as well. They were intelligent in a way no animals were and yet there was still a wildness about them.

By the time, Arthur reached him he was smiling cheerfully, hand extended.

“Hullo, the name’s Eames darling,” His voice was deep, definitively British and when they shook the man’s hand dwarfed Arthur’s own. 

“Arthur.” He replied stiffly, trying not show how intimidated he was despite Eames’ overly friendly personality.

“It’s a pleasure Arthur, I’m sure we’ll do great work together.”

* * *

As it turned out they did work well together, despite vast differences in fashion sense and what was considered funny versus just plain annoying. The job went off without a hitch, the cleanest in months, and they parted ways with a large paycheck in hand and plans to work together again.

And they did intend on calling him, Arthur himself even suggested Eames a few times whenever the need for a forger arose, but for one reason or another they rarely ended up working together.

Mal liked him well enough but she already had her contacts and Eames was still a bit too green for her tastes. Sure, they worked jobs together on an infrequent basis, enough for Arthur to grudgingly start to trust the werewolf, but often months went by without so much as a thought of Eames crossing his mind. 

Arthur worked with Mal and Cobb almost exclusively over those years and people in the business began to think of them as a package deal. They worked so well together that they became the go to team for any difficult, and consequently well-paying job. They were at the top of their game. Then Mal got pregnant.

Cobb and Mal were young and giddy with the prospect of kids. They didn’t care how many times Arthur or Mal’s father told them how irresponsible it was to bring children into a world where they would be in constant danger. Besides no one knew what sort of effects the Somnacin would have on a pregnancy.

Mal waved off their concerns by getting a house in the States and swearing off dream share for the remainder of her pregnancy. When she finally had the baby, it seemed like Arthur had been wrong to worry. The Cobb’s got a nanny and went back to business as usual.

Then Mal got pregnant again. It was supposed to be a good thing. Mal would get some much-needed time off to go spend with her growing toddler and transition into being a full-time mother for real this time. She announced that she was done with dream share.

Secretly Arthur was pleased, the kids needed her and he could tell that the constant work was draining her. He should have known better. After all, Mal herself had once told him that the only way to leave the business was in a body bag.

Mal grew increasingly depressed after the pregnancy and Cobb had to take more and more time off to take care of her and the kids. Then Cobb decided to go under with her one last time. Therapy, he’d said. Let Mal have one last taste of Somnacin and then pull the plug for good.

But they were under for too long. Arthur didn’t hear from them for weeks. Months went by before Cobb called and told him that everything was fine now, that they were going away together to recover after their extended dream and then he’d be back looking for a job again.

The phone call two days later caught Arthur off guard. He wept with Dom as he explained over the phone how Mal had killed herself. 

 _She came back broken_ , he’d said, _her mind was so twisted around she couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I should have seen it, how did I not see it?_

Cobb ran and Arthur, like always, followed. They fled the U.S. and the police who were convinced Cobb had killed his wife. Unable to talk to the authorities because of the work they did and unable to work because his name was suddenly everywhere – Cobb was between a rock and a hard place and by default Arthur was wedged in there with him.

It was a no-win scenario and Arthur, in his darker moments, felt his rage build against Cobb and this impossible position he’d put Arthur in.

But those moments passed quickly. Cobb had never asked anything of Arthur and he was in no state to be left on his own. Every night Arthur spent talking Cobb out of turning himself in only made Arthur more resolved to protect his partner, no matter the cost. 

“You didn’t murder her,” Arthur said patiently, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he looked down at a slumped Cobb sitting on the edge of yet another hotel bed.

“But in a way, I did,” Cobb replied, every inch a broken man, “I did this to her. I even put the needle in her arm when we went under. It might as well have been filled with poison.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Arthur said pleading with Cobb to understand, to snap out of the self-loathing he was drowning in.

“But it is,” Cobb looked up at Arthur with dead eyes, “I killed my wife, Arthur. I see her sometimes – in my mind. Clear as day, like she’s still here. But I know she’s not. I know –“

The only way Cobb could forget was to start working again so Arthur reached out to anyone and everyone for work. But Mal permeated Cobb’s mind even in the dreams, sabotaging each job. More and more jobs went wrong, and Arthur had to watch him constantly to make sure he didn’t disappear deeper into his own mind. By that time, Arthur had nearly forgotten Eames. His mind was solely filled with Cobb and Somnacin. 

Inception changed that. Inception made him remember Eames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the only one editing this so I'm sure I've missed some things. If you see any errors that are especially jarring please feel free to let me know. 
> 
> I'd appreciate it even more if you would leave a comment and let me know what you think so far ;).
> 
> Barring any complications I hope to update this on a weekly basis, so look out next Tuesday for Chapter 2!


	2. On the Hook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't help myself, I had to post this chapter early. I will usually be updating on Tuesday's in the future but I couldn't wait to post this any longer.
> 
> A bit more Eames in this chapter so hopefully you all enjoy that!
> 
> As always I am the writer and editor so I'm sure I missed some things when I was proof-reading. If you see anything that stands out as super jarring, don't be shy about leaving a comment and pointing it out to me.
> 
> Also, you know, just comment about the story too ;) It really does mean a lot.

>   _“Werewolves represent a fear that we as humans are somehow half of something. A werewolf is two things simultaneously – man and wolf. Perhaps this allows them an understanding of the world that we as only humans have been cut off from.”_
> 
> _-L.J. Simmons “Psychology of a Werewolf”_

* * *

The Cobol job is a shit show from the start. Arthur should have called the whole thing off – he knows better. He’s gotten good at judging Cobb’s mental state – whether he’s coherent enough to finish a job – so there’s really no excuse. 

But Cobb begs him, says he needs the work to take his mind off things. Arthur reluctantly – foolishly – agrees. Cobb _is_ usually better with something to focus on.

He’s even desperate enough to take on Nash – a low level architect they usually avoided - despite Arthur's reluctance. Turns out Arthur should have listen to his gut.

 _Nash is dead,_ Arthur vows as the helicopter door slides open and reveals his miserable face.

 “He sold you out,” Saito says, almost regretfully, “came to me begging for his life.”

Arthur tenses, deciding if he can make it off the helipad before Saito or his men can shoot him.

Probably not.

“I will allow you the satisfaction –” Saito motions to one of his guards and Cobb is offered a gun.

“That’s not how I deal with things,” Cobb says.

It’s how Arthur would deal with things but he keeps his thoughts to himself. Saito waves his hand and Nash is hauled away.

“What will you do to him?” Cobb asks as they take off.

“Nothing,” Saito replies, looking out the window, “but I can’t speak for Cobol Engineering.”

Arthur hopes they make it slow.

* * *

Saito has Cobb on a hook, wriggling like a fish, and he knows it. With one word of home Cobb is desperate.

Arthur tries desperately to get him to forget about Saito. They’re somehow not dead and now Cobb wants to push their luck further? But Cobb won’t listen.

“I know you want to go home, Cobb but this is impossible. Inception can’t be done.”

Arthur tries to catch Cobb’s eye – to get him to understand how serious this is – but the other man won’t look at him.

 _He’s already decided_ , Arthur realizes his stomach plummeting.

“I know,” Cobb says desperately pushing his hands through his sweaty hair, “I know you think it’s impossible but we have to try. This is the closest we’ve ever gotten. Home Arthur – just think of it – we could actually go home.”

And he’s right, they are running out of options but Arthur knows it would be hard enough with Cobb on his A-game. With how he is now –

“We’ll need a new architect,” Arthur points out wearily.

“I might have a lead on that,” Cobb replies and Arthur decides he really doesn’t like the gleam in his partner’s eyes.

* * *

Arthur is reluctant to leave Cobb once they land back in Paris but he needs to secure a warehouse for their set up.

“I’ll be fine,” Cobb says, failing to reassure Arthur, “I’m just going to see Miles.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Arthur asks. Not only are the Americans no doubt watching Cobb’s father-in-law but now with Cobol on their tail – the last thing they need is to be predictable.

“No,” Cobb shakes his head, “but if anyone can get us an architect that’s up for the task it’s him.”

Arthur bites his lip. He doubts anyone is up to the task but that’s not what Cobb needs to hear. 

So, he smiles and says –

“Good luck.”

* * *

“She has a lot of potential.”

“Cobb, you know how I feel about that word.” Arthur groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What? She does. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this before. Recruiting the best and brightest straight out of school. Brilliant.”

“This is an important job. An impossible job. Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring in an untrained college student?”

“Ariadne,” Cobb supplies, and Arthur just glares at him.

“She’s already gone, Cobb. She was freaked out – and rightfully so. She’s not equipped for a basic extraction, let alone Inception.”

“She’ll be back,” Cobb says, absentmindedly, “she’s a natural. Reality won’t be enough for her now. No – she’ll come back and when she does I want you to have her building mazes.”

“Me? Where are you going?” Arthur asks giving up on arguing over Ariadne. Once Cobb had made up his mind it was almost impossible to change it.

“To get Eames,” Cobb replies buttoning up his cuffs.

“No – no, not Eames,” Arthur shakes his head, “not after last time.”

During their last job together, their chemist had taken offense to Eames’ incessant flirting. The werewolf was good natured but a bit – intense at times. She had walked out mid-job leaving them without any Somnacin to complete the extraction. Needless to say, the client wasn’t very happy with the outcome and so, therefore, neither was Arthur.

Arthur hadn’t seen the werewolf since.

“Trust me on this Arthur,” Cobb pleads, “we need him.”

“So, you’re going to Mombasa – Cobol’s backyard –  to get Eames because he’s the best but you refuse to get an architect with actual experience? Remind me again what your thought process is because it seems to me like you’re just trying to make our lives more difficult.”

Cobb’s eyes narrow at Arthur thoughtfully.

“I think,” he pauses, “that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit that Eames is the best.”

“I’m done,” Arthur throws his hands up in the air, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Should I tell Eames what you think of him or will this be our little secret?”   

Arthur slams the door to the warehouse so hard it rattles on its hinges, trying not to grin at the thought of Cobb actually making a joke.

* * *

Ariadne does come back as Cobb had predicted. Arthur can see the hunger in her eyes and he knows the feeling well. She’s had a taste now and nothing else will ever be enough again.

Ariadne isn’t too bad he decides. Once she starts showing him her designs Arthur has to admit that maybe Cobb had been right. She has…promise.   

She's nice too. Sometimes he forgets that people can be nice. A little naive and she can’t even hold a gun let alone fire it – but nobody’s perfect. Besides she was just a college student before Cobb picked her up.

Sometimes Arthur worries she’s too sweet for the job, but no one else seems to have doubts so he keeps his opinions to himself.

The main reason, though, that he doesn’t protest more is her work ethic. She might be green but she is eager to learn and quick too.

Like he’d told Cobb all those years ago, Arthur couldn’t care less about her past or what she was choosing to do in her free time. All he cares about is getting the done and not bringing unnecessary trouble to the job. 

And unless there are any crazed college students gunning for Ari for getting a better grade in Math 101, he highly doubts she’s bringing any trouble with her.

Eames, of course, is another story altogether.

* * *

The minute Eames walks into the warehouse Arthur shoves a stack of papers under his nose.

“Sign these,” he says shortly, taking in the oversized sport coat and horrible salmon colored button down Eames has on. Would it kill the man to go to a tailor?

“Why hullo to you too, darling,” Eames smirks playfully, “I’ve been quite well, thank you for your concern.”

“I expect complete professionalism, Mr. Eames,” Arthur continues, ignoring him.

“I’m offended at the mere implication that I’m not a consummate professional.” Eames says, clasping at his chest dramatically, like Arthur has physically wounded him, “I’ll have you know that I take everything quite seriously.” 

Arthur levels him with a skeptical look.

“I especially expect you to follow Section III to the letter.”

Eames flips through the pages and his golden eyes narrow as he reads the fine print.

“No flirting,” Eames exclaims.

“No flirting,” Arthur confirms, “with anyone for the duration of this job.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”  Eames moans, “Besides how am I supposed to help myself when you insist on wearing those tight trousers? They're practically indecent and I am only human.”

"You're actually not human," Arthur points out, "and I expect you to apply that supernatural restraint to not flirting with me or anyone else for that matter."

“I got Yusuf too,” Cobb says breaking the tense silence, “so hopefully there won’t be a repeat of last time.”

“I’ve sworn off trying to harass that man in any way,” Eames says his hands up in surrender, “he’s made some very scary and creative threats.”

“Arthur? Is that Cobb with you?” Ariadne pokes her head out from the back room and after seeing Eames she walks over to shake his hand, “Oh, hello.”

“And what is your name, love?” Eames smile is lascivious as he eyes Ari. The smirk and openly roving eyes are over the top and Arthur is fairly certain Eames is just doing it to get under his skin. Still, he can’t take any chances. 

“No,” Arthur says sharply, “there will be none of that Eames. Ariadne is our architect and if you scare her off I will personally shoot you.”

“Apologies love,” Eames says, kissing Ari’s hand with a flourish, “Arthur is quite a jealous man. Wants to keep me all to himself. You understand of course.”

Ariadne laughs but thankfully Arthur can tell from her amused but not besotted expression, she’s not likely to fall in love with Eames or let him scare her off.

A rare find indeed.

Arthur rolls his eyes as Eames follows Ariadne into the back, launching into a grandiose and probably entirely fabricated story and turns to address Cobb.

“I hope you realize the sacrifices I make for you.”

And though it’s meant as a joke, Arthur can’t help but feel the harsh truth of his words hit him.

“Trust me,” Cobb says sadly, “I do.”

* * *

Arthur is always meticulous in his work, rechecking every detail but he knows this job is different. More intricate, more dangerous and with more on the line. They can’t afford any mistakes.

This means longer hours and fewer breaks. Arthur’s used to the demands of the job but even he is starting to feel the strain by the end of day five.

Arthur stretches, trying to stifle a yawn. He doesn’t have time for sleep right now, not when the layers need to be rechecked for blind spots.

“A peace offering,” Eames appears suddenly at Arthur’s elbow, coffee in hand, “you look like you could use it.” 

Arthur looks up surprised. The other man seems genuine though, a tentative smile on his face.

 “Thanks,” he says sincerely, taking the coffee and a hesitant sip of the steaming liquid.

“Eames we’re going to need to run some more tests later today,” Yusuf says from his work station. There are some suspicious looking bubbling liquids that Arthur has been giving a wide berth. Yusuf, however, seems unconcerned. 

“Tests,” Eames pulls a face, “all these bloody tests are going to give me a migraine Yusuf. I need time to work and perhaps sleep if that could be arranged.”

“We need to be sure your body won’t metabolize the sedative faster. If I need to make adjustments – “

“Very well but you know I think you just like using me as your guinea pig.” Eames says, shaking his finger at the other man.

“It is fascinating how your biology changes the rate of absorption of certain compounds,” Yusuf remarks thoughtfully, making a note in his pad.

"I'm feeling persecuted," Eames moans dramatically, "perhaps I shall file a formal complaint."

"You do that," Arthur mutters taking another swig of his surprisingly good coffee.

Ariadne looks up from her own work to eye Eames.

“So, you’re a werewolf?” She asks and Arthur chokes on his coffee.

“Ariadne!” He wheezes, trying to regain some sense of dignity as hot coffee burns his throat.

“What? You are, aren’t you?” Her eyes are earnest and fixed on Eames who seems ridiculously pleased with the question. Or maybe it’s the fact that Arthur is coughing up a lung. Sadistic bastard.

“Breathe darling,” he pats Arthur’s back as he splutters, red in the face, “I am.”  

“What did I have for lunch?” Arthur stares at her. Out of all the questions…   

“Really? My nose is offended that you have such little faith in it. I don’t have to be a wolf to smell those bloody awful jalapeño crisps you fancy for some unknown reason. That’s not even a proper lunch, darling.”

Ari is quiet for a moment before she bursts out laughing. “Maybe I’ll make it a little harder for you next time then.”

“You do that, darling,” He then turns to Arthur, as he is still spluttering, tears running down his face as he wheezes. “Do you need the Heimlich pet?” Eames, the bastard, has a fake concerned look on his face. Arthur flicks him off before hurrying outside for a much-needed cigarette break.

Why does he always find the psychos to work with?

* * *

After meeting Eames, Arthur had become a reluctant reader of L.J. Simmons, the self-proclaimed expert in the brand new scientific miracle of Lycanthropy.

Arthur had been wandering through a bookstore one day, searching for a new moleskin and something not completely boring to read, when he stumbled across the inconspicuous book. After purchasing it on a whim he found himself unable to put it down.

Now, it’s a possibility that Simmons is crazy, and even more likely that he’s a hippie – the man’s bio picture is of a small, bespectacled man, with gray dreadlocks and lots of hemp jewelry. Still, he is the only person who’d ever published a book about wolf-men that hadn’t ended up in the Young Adult section. 

Simmons believed that he’d found a pack of werewolves living – at least semi-permanently in wolf form – in the wilderness of Canada. For his first book, the man had spent nine months living in a tent researching the pack. And while Arthur was a bit skeptical at first Simmons quickly won him over with his well researched findings.

Arthur couldn't help but respect a man who took meticulous notes.

In his books, Simmons talked about how the wolves were bigger than any he’d ever seen before and how they had distinctly human like eyes.

Arthur shivers at the thought of what Eames might look like in his wolf form.

He doesn’t scare easily, with special ops training plus years dodging some of the most ruthless governments and criminal organizations on the planet. That being said, he can admit at least to himself, that seeing a giant wolf might be enough to make him piss his pants.

Still, the idea fascinates him for reasons he can’t quite explain. Maybe it's knowing that Eames is a werewolf that had piqued his interest. Certainly, before Eames, he’d never felt any need to learn more about these wolf-men.

Arthur is a naturally cautious person though and maybe it bothers him to work so closely with someone he doesn’t completely understand. So, he finds himself going back to Simmons words, again and again, looking for answers to his unknown questions.

Simmons had published three books detailing his findings and Arthur would, embarrassingly, find himself re-reading them more than he cares to admit. He would be up into the wee hours of the morning pouring over the books, puzzling over the behavior Simmons described and wondering how accurate it all was.

Still, despite all the author’s work, there is still a lot the public doesn’t know about werewolves. And for good reason. They like to keep to themselves and keep their true nature as private as possible.

It’s easy enough. In human form, most werewolves are nearly indistinguishable from the average human.

In fact, most werewolves are no doubt living normal human lives, never disclosing their true species.

Which makes Arthur wonder, why hadn’t Eames done that himself?

Arthur is musing over this very question, while half-heartedly going over his notes when Eames strolls into their makeshift kitchen with cartons of Chinese takeout and two plates.

“Why do you tell people you’re a werewolf?” Arthur blurts out as Eames plops down across from him at the table.

“That’s an interesting question love,” Eames says, spooning some sweet and sour chicken onto a plate and placing it in front of Arthur. Right on top of the paper he’s been looking over.

Arthur glares at him for potentially ruining his work but decides he can’t really complain considering the other man has brought him dinner. Especially since at that moment, his traitorous stomach decides to growl.

“That wasn’t an answer,” Arthur says after taking a bite of the chicken under Eames’ eerie gaze.

“I guess I just don’t see any reason to hide it,” Eames shrugs reaching over to spoon rice onto Arthur’s plate before dumping the rest on his own.

“Plenty of people have gone after werewolves.” Arthur points out.

And it’s true. Once it became common knowledge that werewolves walked among them, many humans panicked and came up with a very human solution – extermination.  The fear of many in the early days was of being attacked and turned. There were whole documentaries devoted to the idea that werewolves were secretly planning to take over the world by turning all the humans. While this was clearly just paranoia – there had never been a single credible report of a human being turned into a werewolf – it consumed much of the population.

Even as child Arthur had noticed the news, filled with reports of men being shot in the street because someone thought they might be a were’. It had quieted down but every year like horrifying clockwork a werewolf ended up dead at some fanatic’s hand.

“Darling, people come after me anyway,” he smirks, “besides it’s harder for me to keep the wolf suppressed than most. People would be able to tell.”

“You mean your eyes,” Arthur says, regretting it because the golden eyes flick back up to fix on him again. He’s heard of werewolves’ eyes flashing gold in human form but he’s never heard of someone like Eames – someone with permanently golden eyes.

“They are a bit of a giveaway,” Eames chuckles.

“Unnerving,” Arthur replies, “that’s the word I would use.”

Eames frowns, actually looking hurt and Arthur suddenly feels like a gigantic dick.

“I only meant they’re very striking,” Arthur says quickly trying to recover, “it’s hard not to notice them.”

Eames opens his mouth to reply.

“Eames are you in here?” Ariadne pokes her head around the corner interrupting whatever Eames was going to say and Arthur lets out a sigh of relief. As if things could have gotten more awkward.

“Yes, love?”

“Cobb was looking for you,” she says before looking down at their plates, “Is that sweet and sour chicken?”

* * *

It’s nearly midnight when Arthur finally allows himself to close his moleskin for the night. It’s coming down to the wire so they are all still there, Yusuf tinkering with his formula, Ari making the last changes to the levels, and Cobb doing God knows what in the back room.

Arthur’s eyes are aching after a long day as he steps outside for a much-needed break only to realize he isn’t the only one with that idea.

It’s dark out but the one bulb in the alleyway is still flickering with some life, lighting up the slope of Eames’ sizable shoulders as he stands, facing the wall.

It takes a moment for Arthur’s sleep deprived brain to catch up with what he’s seeing but suddenly he realizes Eames is pissing on the side of the warehouse.

“You do realize there is a functional toilet inside, right?” Arthur drawls unable to pass up this opportunity to harass the man.

Eames’ head jerks up and he looks – almost embarrassed.

That’s when it hits Arthur.

“Are you marking right now?” He asks incredulously and watches as the flush on Eames’ face spreads down his neck. 

“Darling, you quite literally caught me with my pants down.”

“Is that a territory thing? Letting other werewolves know you’re here? Staking your claim?” Arthur asks curiously, lighting up a cigarette he’s pulled from his silver cigarette case.

“Are you writing a book now?” Eames asks dryly zipping himself up.

“Yeah, I’m secretly corresponding with L.J. Simmons. He promised me co-author credit.”

“You read Simmons?” Eames asks, surprise clear in his voice and now it’s Arthur’s turn to blush.

“I’m naturally curious,” Arthur says defensively. Eames laughs.

It’s a nice sound, Eames’ honest laugh – something Arthur finds himself wishing he could hear more of.

“That you are darling, that you are.” He smiles.

Eames climbs the stairs to stand in front of Arthur and after a moment plucks the cigarette from between Arthur’s fingers and takes a long drag.

“Hey!” Arthur exclaims. He’d been looking forward to that cigarette. It is one of the few vices he allows himself - rationing them out carefully so as not to become too dependent.

“These things will kill you, darling,” Eames says with a smirk.

 Arthur swears that Eames tries to be contrary just to piss him off.

“What, werewolves don’t get lung cancer?” Arthur asks, frowning as he pulls out a fresh cigarette and lights it.

“Not that I’ve ever heard,” Eames grins, “though don’t quote me on that. Wouldn’t want any outliers skewing Simmons data, now would we?” 

They stand in silence for a moment and Arthur lets the haze of smoke calm him.

“How is he?” Eames asks and Arthur doesn’t need to ask who he’s talking about.

“He’s – better.”

“Darling,” Eames cocks an eyebrow in disbelief, “how is he _really?_ "

“Not good,” Arthur admits quietly, “and it’s only been getting worse. I don’t know if it’s the thought of home but he’s – struggling more than usual to keep things together.”

“Can he handle this?” Eames voice isn’t unkind but Arthur hears an edge to it. 

For a moment, he considers lying – they don’t have time to find another forger if Eames walks away and if Arthur’s honest they wouldn’t have gotten this far without some of Eames’ ideas. They need him.

But he dismisses that thought. Eames has always been more loyal than anyone in this profession should be. He deserves the truth.

“I don’t know,” Arthur looks over at Eames questioningly after a beat of silence, “Are you going to leave? I wouldn’t blame you if you chose to walk away. It’s an awful lot of risk for something that isn’t your problem.”

“No,” Eames says after a moment his gold eyes glinting, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, darling. The money is good and if we can pull this off we’ll have done the impossible – according to you.”

Arthur shrugs noncommittally, “We’ll see.”

“Your confidence is overwhelming,” Eames laughs, “never fear though, I am well aware that your lovely arse is on the line. I won’t let you down.” 

“I hope that wasn’t flirting Mr. Eames,” Arthur says warningly, stubbing out his cigarette.

“Flirting? Me?” Eames asks with mock surprise, “I would never _dream_ of breaking our contract like that.”

“Good,” Arthur turns and opens the door to go back inside, “as long as we’re in agreement then.”

“Perfectly,” Eames says, “Although – it really is quite lovely.”

Arthur looks back to see Eames shamelessly ogling him. He turns and tries not to blush. 

“Goodnight Mr. Eames,” Arthur says firmly. 

“Goodnight darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd leave a few quick notes about my thought process for anyone who's interested.
> 
> I'm mostly glossing over Inception because most of this story's action happens after the movie ends. However I do want to use the movie's plot to provide a bit of a foundation and backstory for my AU.
> 
> One of the reason why I love reading/writing Inception fics so much is, besides Cobb, the characters largely have very little backstory. This allows writers to make up anything they want and it could, conceivably, be canon. I will be exploring that a bit more in later chapters - giving my own ideas about each character's backstory.
> 
> That being said there are a few aspects of the canon that I changed for my own purposes. For one thing, obviously in the movie it's clear Arthur has worked with Cobb many times before but he doesn't know him as well as I portray in this fic. This is something that I've taken a liking to from other fics that I've read. I think it's an interesting idea to see Cobb's problems impact not only himself but another person who's close to him, in this case Arthur.
> 
> Also I imply that Arthur and Cobb both know Yusuf before Inception but in the movie Eames is the only one who's heard of him before. I think this makes for a more interesting dynamic.
> 
> And as much as I like Ariadne's character in the movie and her relationship with Cobb - I am minimizing it in this fic to give Arthur a closer relationship with Cobb. Never fear though she is still an important character.
> 
> Anyway, these are some of my thoughts from this chapter that I thought might be interesting to share. If anyone actually enjoys this please let me know and I might continue to do it on upcoming chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and as always I hope you enjoyed this! Until next week :)


	3. Two Passengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Another chapter up. I don't know why I thought I could keep to a schedule on this story, I get too excited to post and can't wait! These next few week are going to pretty hectic for me though so I may go to a weekly update. We'll see. 
> 
> I went back and made a few edits to the previous chapters, nothing major but a few things I realized needed to be edited a bit.
> 
> Anyway please enjoy this chapter and please, please, please leave me comments!! They give me life.

 

 

> _“The complexity of the werewolf’s dual nature is not limited to their physical appearance. They are often seen as violent and quick to anger but they are also astonishingly gentle creatures. Their capacity for tenderness may seem surprising but if you really examine their nature it makes perfect sense. To harmoniously exist with something so different is – at its core – the essence of what a werewolf is.”_
> 
> -L.J. Simmons “Psychology of a Werewolf”

* * *

Arthur is so worried about Mal sabotaging the job he doesn’t stop to consider that she might not be the one he needs to worry about.

Cobb is increasingly distant as they get closer to the extraction but Arthur puts that down to the fact that everyone’s running on little sleep and less patience.

It isn’t until Cobb gets in his face Arthur realizes it might have been more than that.

“What the hell was that?” Cobb exclaims after they somehow make it to the warehouse despite Fisher's projections.

Arthur ignores him in favor of helping Saito out of the car.

When Cobb see him he swears, “Christ, is he dying?”

The blood is soaking Saito’s shirt now and Arthur pulls a knife from his pocket to cut it away.

“I don’t know,” Arthur says. It looks like a fatal wound but there no way to tell for sure. Regardless Saito is in no state to deal with the hostile projections that are closing in on them, “Where the hell were you?”

“We were blocked by a freight train,” Ariadne says and Arthur looks at up her in surprise.

“Why would you put a freight train in the middle of an intersection?”

“I didn’t, “Ariadne replies defensively.

“Why were we ambushed?” Cobb asks looking down at Arthur, “Those projections – they were trained.”

“I don’t know. It should have shown in the research –“

“Why the hell didn’t it?” Cobb shouts his face pinched in anger.

“Calm down,” Arthur says soothingly, standing slowly.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Cobb yells, “you were in charge of his background. You should have known him better than he knows himself. How the hell did you miss this?”

“We’ve dealt with sub-security before,” Arthur continues through gritted teeth, the implication that he had somehow failed to do his job grating him, “we just have to be a bit more careful.”

“This was not part of the plan Arthur,” Cobb is nearly manic, his eyes wild with something – fear maybe – as he points at Saito, “he’s dying.”

“So, we put him out of his misery,” Eames says calmly pulling his gun and leveling it at the man’s head.

“No,” Cobb cries and grabs Eames.

“We need to wake him up,” Eames looks at Cobb incredulously, “he’s in agony.”

“No, don’t,” Cobb says hurriedly, “it won’t wake him up.”

Arthur’s stomach drops.

“What do you mean it won’t wake him up,” Eames asks dangerously, “When you die in a dream you wake up.”

“Not from this,” Yusuf says, looking around hopelessly, “We’re too heavily sedated.”

“So, what happens if one of us dies?” Eames asks, his voice low and eyes flashing.

“You won’t wake,” Cobb replies, “you’ll drop into limbo.”

Limbo. It’s always hovered over every job like a specter, a universal nightmare they all shared. It served as a warning to all dreamers – don’t delve too deep or you’ll be trapped in a prison you don’t even know you can escape from.

“Limbo?” Ariadne asks, a note of panic in her voice.

“Unconstructed dream space,” Arthur explains, eyeing Cobb angrily, “it’s just raw infinite subconscious. Nothing there but what was left behind by anyone who’s been trapped there before. In our case – you.”

Cobb won’t even look at him – the coward.

“How long would we be stuck down there?” Eames asks.

“At this level of sedation?” Yusuf replies, “You wouldn’t even think about trying to escape until it eases –“

“How long?” Eames all but growls.

“Decades – it could be infinite – I don’t know. Ask him, he’s the one that’s been there before.” Yusuf gestures wildly at Cobb.

Eames stalks towards Cobb. It was sometimes easy to forget – with his jokes and easy smile – what Eames actually is. A predator.

He looks every inch a predator now. Dangerous and lethal and singularly focused on Cobb.

“So, you’ve led us into a war zone with no way out? Didn’t think to mention one of the risks of the job might be our brains turning into scrambled eggs?”

For a horrifying moment, Arthur is sure Eames is going to kill Cobb. His eyes are murderous and he looks more like a wolf than Arthur has ever seen him.

“Eames,” Arthur says, firmly, trying to redirect the other man’s attention.

The werewolf snaps his gaze over and Arthur fears for a moment Eames will turn all that murderous rage on him instead. But Eames blinks slowly and his eyes clear.

“We need to get him upstairs,” he motions to Saito who’s slowly bleeding out onto the floor.

The older man looks bad and if they don’t hurry limbo may be about to claim one of them already.

Eames hesitates a moment, gives Cobb one last meaningful look, before crouching down next to Arthur. He helps lift Saito carefully and the older man groans in pain.

“Easy,” Arthur says soothingly, “we got you.”

They climb the stairs slowly and Ari follows them up quickly clearing off an old desk to lay him on.

“Hold this,” he says softly to Ariadne, giving her some of Saito’s ruined shirt he’s torn off, “firm pressure.”

He stands slowly. His hands are red with blood and his head feels light.

He turns to Cobb.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Arthur asks Cobb softly, feeling the rage he’s carefully been suppressing start to simmer to the surface.

“There wasn’t supposed to be any risk,” Cobb replies, at least having the decency to look guilty, “he wasn’t supposed to be greeting us with a war zone.”

“You had no right,” Arthur says harshly, so angry he can barely breathe.

“It was the only way Arthur,” Cobb says. The man looks tired and surprisingly old, like a man who’s lived so long he’s weary of life. It makes Arthur livid.

“You,” Arthur rounds on Yusuf, “you knew about this?”

“I trusted him,” Yusuf holds his hands up placating.

“You trusted him?” Arthur snorts, “When? When he promised you half his share?”

“No!” Yusuf replies before continuing, ducking his head in embarrassment, “his whole share. Plus, he told me he’d done this before.”

And Arthur should be madder at Yusuf but he knows first-hand how persuasive Cobb can be when he wants something.

“Oh yeah?” Arthur says, turning back to Cobb, “You mean with Mal? Did you tell him how that turned out?”

The moment he says it Arthur almost wishes he could take it back. Cobb’s face goes stark white and his eyes go dark and shuttered as they always do when Mal is mentioned.

“You know why we have to do this,” Cobb replies finally, “it’s the only way home. You know I’ll do anything to get back to my children.”

“Now I do,” Arthur shakes his head sadly.

He’d always thought Cobb was better than this. Cobb had never had the stomach for the violence and deceit of the job – that’s what he’d always liked about the man. Apparently, he’d been wrong. Again.

“So, you’re telling me you led us into this shite with no way out?” Eames says, breaking the silence.

“We do have a way out. The kick. We do the job as planned and ride the kick back out.” Cobb says with renewed confidence.

“Forget that,” Eames says, shaking his head, “No, we go deeper we’re just raising the stakes. No, I think I’ll sit this one out right here gentleman.”

“You’ll never make it,” Cobb says, “We have a week at this level. Not even you can survive on your own here that long. No, we have to move forwards – together. And fast.”

As if to illustrate his point Saito lets out another pained groan at that moment.

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right,” Arthur says, “we do the job and get the hell out of here. It’s the only way.”

Eames hesitates for a moment before he nods.

“You ok?’ Arthur asks Ariadne gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She’s so young and in that moment, she looks it. Her face is pale and eyes fearful but she bites her lip and nods, determined.

Arthur feels a swell of pride and relief at her bravery. He couldn’t say he would be able to do the same in her shoes.

“Good,” Arthur nods and turns to Cobb, “alright let’s go shake Fisher up.”

* * *

In the next layer, Cobb insists on running Mr. Charles and Arthur – unsurprisingly – can’t convince him that it’s an insanely bad idea.

 _Cobb’s stubbornness is going to get us all killed_ , Arthur thinks but there’s no time to argue.

Surprisingly it actually works and once Fisher and his projection of Browning are safely in the hotel room and under, going into the next dream level, Arthur lets himself feel a small flicker of relief.

“He’s out,” Arthur confirms after checking Fisher is well and truly asleep.

“Wait,” Ariadne asks, confused as he slips a line into her wrist, “Whose subconscious are we going into? I thought Browning was just a projection.”

“Fisher’s,” Cobb says uncoiling his own line from the PASIV, “I told him we were going into Browning’s so he’d come with us as part of our team.”

Arthur looks up at Cobb, impressed despite his own anger at the man.

“He’s going to help us break into his own subconscious.”

“That’s the idea.” Cobb says, lying back onto the bed, “He’ll fight his own security to learn the truth about his father.”

Sometimes, un-expectantly, Arthur realizes all over again how brilliant Cobb can be. It’s a small glimpse of the man he’d been so in awe of when he’d first joined dream share. But that man was all but dead now, as if he’d been buried right alongside Mal.

“Ready,” he asks, checking the PASIV and shaking any more self-pitying thoughts from his head. He needs to focus.

Cobb nods and he pushes the plunger. It goes against his every instinct to let Cobb go further into the dream without him but it’s too late to change the plan now.

“Wait,” Eames’ hand grabs Arthur’s writs and Arthur turns, realizing he’s still awake and fumbling with his line.

“What is it?” Arthur asks, annoyed. He crouches down and takes the line from Eames' hand and slips it with practiced ease. They don’t have time for this. But Eames doesn’t respond – he just stares at him.

Eames gaze is fixed on him, unreadable. It’s almost as if Eames is searching him for something, those golden eyes piercing in their intensity. Then Arthur feels a squeeze on his wrist and Eames has let go.

“Darling, I need – “ Eames starts but before he can get the words out his lids begin to droop and then he’s under.

Arthur stares at the other man’s slack face for a moment and wonders what he was going to say.

He realizes in that instant this might be the last time he sees any of them. If they fail who knows what will happen. But there’s no time to dwell on that.

He still has a job to do.

* * *

Coming out of a Somnacin fueled dream always felt like rising out of quicksand but with this formula, it's ten times worse. Arthur’s head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, his mouth is dry and everything is too bright.

Cobb’s expression when they lock eyes almost guts him. The raw disbelief, that tentative hope he’d been trying to suppress bubbling up behind his eyes. Arthur smiles at him reassuringly, trying to hide his own feelings.

They won’t speak, not when they’re still so close to the target – no need to draw undue attention to themselves – but the look is enough.

They’ve done it.

The Los Angeles sun is almost blinding when they step off the plane. Arthur fingers his totem, longing to roll the die but settles for just feeling the weight of it in his hand. It all still feels like a dream. Especially when Cobb walks through security without a hitch to embrace Mal’s father who is waiting for him.

When Cobb doesn’t look back Arthur doesn’t blame him but it stings none the less. Even though this is what they’ve been working for, even if this is all Arthur ever wanted for his only true friend, it still feels bittersweet to see his back disappearing into the crowd.

“Arthur,” Eames’ hand is on his elbow, gentle but still a bit startling, and Arthur realizes he’s been standing motionless, staring after Cobb.

“You really shouldn’t be talking to me,” Arthur mutters refusing to lock eyes as he grabs his bag from the luggage carousel, “we don’t know each other remember. Just two passengers on a plane.”

“Fisher’s gone darling,” Eames replies softly and Arthur looks up to see the mark is in fact nowhere to be seen, “I wouldn’t worry about two random passengers being seen talking.”

Arthur just nods as he keeps looking for his other bag. It doesn’t really matter he supposes, there is no criminal record to be wary of and nobody he needs to protect now.

“You OK, love?” Eames asks.

“Fine,” Arthur says shouldering his last bag and hefting the PASIV case before reaching out a hand, “thank you, Mr. Eames. Your work was exemplary, efficient and very much appreciated.”

“Of course, darling,” Eames’ palm is warm and calloused against Arthur’s smaller hand, “of course.”

He looks like he’s going to say more but Arthur doesn’t give him the chance. He turns and makes his way out of the airport, determined not to look back. Not for Cobb, not for Eames, not for anyone.

It’s harder than it should be.

* * *

He debates leaving the city immediately. It would be the smart thing to do, disappear. Perhaps back to Europe on the off chance something goes wrong and the job’s discovered.

But he’s suddenly very tired and instead goes to his favorite hotel and books a room for the night. He can decide what to do tomorrow.

After carefully stowing his luggage and the PASIV he sits down at the cheap desk in the corner of his room and pulls out his totem.

The red die glints a bit in the light and he turns it over in his hands taking comfort in the familiar weight of it. All the dents and scratches are there, one of the dots on the three face is almost completely worn off and the lines of dots for the six are not perfectly parallel.

It's as familiar and comforting as his Glock and him suits. It grounds him.

He rolls it on the desk, the sound almost too loud in his ears when it clatters on the wood. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until it hits the one three times in a row.

It still feels like a dream though, so he rolls it one more time. Just to be sure.

The single dot comes up again and finally, he lets himself relax.

He’s not sure what to feel – relief or disappointment at the confirmation this is real life. That it’s well and truly over.

They’ve done it. Inception. The impossible.

And now that Cobb is finally home Arthur is a free man yet again - whatever that means anymore.

Having built his whole life around the Cobbs and now to have both of them gone in some form or another, he feels like he’s in a crumbling dream scape with no kick to get him out.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a buzzing in his pocket and he fishes out the burner he’d gotten at the start of the job.

He recognizes the number. Eames.

He almost ignores it. Eames is the last person he wants to talk to right now. But his own caution stops him. What if something had gone wrong? What if the other man was in trouble?

“Hello,” he answers slumping back in his chair.

“Hullo, darling,” Eames voice is cheerful on the other end and Arthur feels a sliver of annoyance at the man’s tone.

“What is it, Mr. Eames?” he snaps. He doesn’t want to have this conversation but stops short of hanging up. Their banter is as comforting and familiar as his totem.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything but I was wondering if you were by any chance still in town?”

“Why?” Arthur asks suspiciously.

“No need to suspect the worst love,” Eames chuckles, “We just did the impossible, I think a celebration is in order. Wanted to see if you’d join us for a pint.”

“Us?”

“Ariadne and Yusuf already agreed. Don’t worry about protocol darling,” Eames smoothly cuts of Arthur’s complaint, “no one is looking for us.”

It’s stupid and reckless. Arthur really should say no. He has a strict no fraternization rule, especially right after jobs. That’s how people got caught. Besides, he doesn’t even really feel like celebrating.

“Alright,” he agrees hesitantly, without meaning to, “where should I meet you?”

“Excellent! I’ll come to you darling,” Eames replies cheerfully, “just give me your hotel and I’ll pick you up.”

Arthur wants to protest but realizes Eames is assuming he’s just agreeing to get Eames off his back before bailing.

 _Actually, that’s not a bad idea_  , Arthur thinks to himself.

“Come now darling,” Eames pleads, “don’t back out on me now.”

Eames has always had a surprisingly good read on Arthur. It’s one of the most annoying things about him.

“Fine,” Arthur sighs and give Eames the hotel.

“Lovely,” Eames says before the line goes dead.

Arthur sighs. He really shouldn’t do this but the hotel room feels big and empty and too damn quiet.

As much as he hates to admit it he could use Eames brash and overwhelming presence right now to fill up some of this void he feels. Not that he’d ever tell Eames that.

Wouldn’t want it to go to his head.

* * *

Arthur changes his mind a half dozen times before he finally convinces himself to go downstairs. Besides he’s fairly certain that if he doesn’t meet Eames, the werewolf will do something drastic and obnoxious to find him and drag him out anyway.

He finds Eames and a cab waiting for him in the front of the building.

“Was about to send out the search party,” Eames jokes as Arthur climbs into the backseat with him.

Arthur ignores him and Eames give the driver an address.

As they pull away Arthur is struck once again by how much space Eames takes up. Not just his bulk but his presence and the way he sits with his legs sprawling across the back of the cab.

It’s – distracting and he tries not to think about it or anything else, focusing instead on the way Eames’ knee bumps his at every turn. 

Thankfully the other man seems content with the silence, though he won't stop looking at Arthur. Arthur stares out the window.

It takes just a few minutes to get to their destination. When they stop and Eames pays the driver before Arthur can protest and they get out.

The bar they enter is suitable seedy, a haze of smoke filling up every inch of the place and a floor so sticky it squeaks when you walk.

Yusuf and Ari are already there waiting for them at a high-top table by the door.

“First round is on me,” Ari announces loudly over the music. It’s some got some thumping bass line that Arthur can feel in his chest and no discernable words.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Eames asks her dubiously as he sits.

“I’m 22,” Ari huffs, indignant in the way only 22-year-olds can be, “and I bet I can drink you under the table.”

“I wouldn’t count on that love. Werewolves have a naturally high tolerance. Takes more than a few girly drinks to knock me on my arse.”

“Really?” Ari says curiously, “How many –“

“Get started without me,” Arthur says barely hearing his own voice as he speaks. He turns, feeling dizzy as he walks away from them.

“Where are you going?” Yusuf calls after him.

“Bathroom,” Arthur manages before shouldering past some frat boy and all but running into the men’s room.

It's blessedly empty and he quickly locks himself in the wheelchair stall. He thought he could handle this but he feels a sort of panic building in him like a scream bubbling up in his throat.

He paces trying to take some deep calming breaths.

 _You’re fine_ , he thinks harshly, _pull yourself together, you’re being ridiculous._

The voice in his head isn’t his though. It’s Mal’s.

He closes his eyes.

He can remember her voice so clearly, he almost expects to hear it echoing off the tiles around him. The soft French accent that smoothed her words. The way her voice would go sharp when she chastised him like he was a child. The ringing of her laughter whenever he said something she thought was especially clever.

_Magnifique, mon cher, brillant!_

He takes a deep breath and pushes thoughts of Mal down. There’s no use dwelling on that now. He opens the stall door.

Eames is standing there in the flickering fluorescence, looking impossibly large in the tiny bathroom. Arthur shudders at the thought of being so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard the door.

Arthur brushes past him to wash up in the sink trying not to tense as he feels those eyes following him.

“You alright pet?” Eames asks his voice echoing against the dirty tiles.

“Fine,” Arthur says and after steeling himself turns to meet Eames gaze head on.

Arthur flinches, Eames is a mere breath away from him, no doubt using his supernatural grace to move without Arthur sensing it.

“Oh, darling,” Eames’ eyes are like liquid gold Arthur notices as the man slowly reaches out as if to touch Arthur’s face. But he stops short when Arthur tenses and settles a large hand on Arthur’s shoulder instead.

“So strong,” Eames' voice is impossibly deep, vibrating through Arthur’s bones just like the music had, “do you ever let yourself feel vulnerable?”

“Not usually,” Arthur mutters looking at Eames left ear to avoid locking eyes again.

“It’s ok to let yourself feel something love. This pain isn’t going to break you.”

“I’m not – in pain,” Arthur huffs feeling stupid for the tears welling in his eyes. Eames does something to him – makes him feel safe and dangerously out of control in the same instant.

“Darling,” Eames' voice is achingly sweet, his lips curling around the endearment.

“I just – Cobb loved her, I know he did. But so did I,” Arthur is horrified at the unbidden words creeping out of his mouth but he can’t stop them, blinking a few drops of tears escape his eyes, “and I didn’t even feel like I could grieve her because he needed me to take care of things. But he’s gone now too and I’m – I’m still here.”

Arthur has a memory of one of the first jobs he ever worked with the Cobbs. He’d still been so green – fresh out of the military with no experience. They’d spent hours in the dream every day, she and Dom teaching him to bend the world to his will. It was the first time he’d ever felt truly alive. It was the first time he’d ever felt special.

But now even that happy memory is tainted, marred with all his bitterness and longing. He’d never feel that way again.

“You thought you had to be strong for Cobb,” Eames says gently, “to protect him. And you did an admirable job darling. You got him home. But don’t obligate yourself to him any longer. You are your own man.”

“Am I?” Arthur laughs wryly, “They made me. Everything I am is because of them.”

“That’s not true Arthur and you know it,” Eames says sternly but still gently, “You’re the greatest point man in the world. That’s all you darling, just you. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Arthur opens his mouth before closing it again. That’s the first time anyone has ever said that to him.

Sure, people tell him he’s good, that they respect him, that he’s efficient – but the way Eames says he’s the best – like it’s a fact – makes Arthur warm in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“You’re not alone in this darling,” Eames continues after a moment, “I hope you trust me enough to be able to lean on me if you need it. On all of us.”

“I do. I – thank you,” Arthur says sincerely, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He had never been one to lean on somebody else but the option, the knowledge that he can if he needs to, is nice.

That’s when he realizes Eames' hand is still on his shoulder, warm, large and so very gentle.

He clears his throat and breaks Eames gaze.

“We better get back before they wonder what’s going on in here.” He jokes weakly.

Eames takes a sharp breath causing Arthur to look back up at him to see his unreadable expression.

“And what do you suppose, might they wonder?” Eames asks after a moment. He says it lightly and Arthur would almost think it's another one of Eames' meaningless flirtations but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

They're dead serious and deciding this isn't something he's mentally equipped to deal with right now, Arthur flees the bathroom without a word.

He makes his way back though the crowded bar and takes two shots of what he thinks is tequila from the table before sitting down.

"You OK?" Yusuf asks dubiously.

"I will be once we get another round of these." Arthur says taking another shot, relishing the burn that scorches down his throat and the way his head is already starting to spin.

Yeah another round and he'll be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look out for the next chapter soon!


	4. Werewolves of London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while but honestly I'm not even sure if anyone's reading this lol. Don't know when the next chapter will be, life's gotten a bit crazy, but I do have big plans for this story and don't want to post something half-assed. 
> 
> If someone is actually reading this I hope you enjoy!
> 
> All mistakes are mine I try to catch as many as I can but I'm not perfect.

>   _The Lycanthrope pack, being much larger and more complex than the average Canis lupus pack, is led by an Alpha wolf. The Alpha and his family are respected and revered among their pack, acting almost as a monarch, with absolute rule – at least until the Alpha is challenged for his position…_
> 
> _-L.J. Simmons “The Canadian Pack”_

* * *

For the second time in 24 hours, Arthur wakes up hungover.

At least this time it’s actually from drinking, Arthur thinks to himself, the night before slowly coming back to him.

After Arthur had escaped from whatever had happened in the bathroom, he’d endeavored to get as drunk as possible. Ari and Yusuf had been more than happy to egg him on. Eames, when he’d finally rejoined them, mercifully didn’t let on that anything had happened.

The night had been a blur of shots and too loud music until Arthur couldn’t remember much of anything at all. Arthur wasn’t much of a drinker so when he did indulge it hit him hard.

He vaguely remembered being kicked out of the bar at closing and a packed cab ride to different hotels. At least he’d had the state of mind to insist on that.

Eames had gotten out at each stop to make sure they’d all gotten inside safely. Arthur had been the last.

He only had vague memories of the walk into the hotel, like Eames’s large warm hand on his back steering him into the elevator and down the hall. He’d dropped Arthur off at the door with a ‘sweet dreams darling’ before disappearing back down the hall.

The cab must have been a fortune, Arthur thinks dumbly, groaning as he rolls out of bed.

He goes to the bathroom sink and splashes some water on his face. It does nothing for his hangover and only serves to make him look like a sick wet cat.

The inside of his mouth tastes like something has died in it so he goes back into the bedroom to fish out his mouthwash from his suitcase.

His phone buzzes from the bedside table and he goes over to check it.

Eames.

He contemplates ignoring it. His head is throbbing and all he wants is another four hours of sleep but Eames had been uncommonly kind the night before. The least Arthur could do was thank him for that.

Besides he can’t help the worry that creeps back in that Eames might be in trouble.

“Good morning love. Sleep well?” Eames’ cheerful voice greets him.

“Ugh, are you hung over at all?” Arthur asks, regretting answering the call. Clearly the other man is fine – in fact, he sounds like he’s doing a hell of a lot better than Arthur is.

Giving up on the mouthwash Arthur goes back into the bathroom to retrieve a wet washcloth. He can feel a headache coming on.

“Sorry darling,” Eames says, not sounding sorry at all, “high tolerance. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Arthur groans, gingerly climbing back into bed with the washcloth that he drapes over his eyes, “is everything alright?”

“Yes, I just wanted to check in. You were more than a few sheets to the wind last night.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” Arthur replies embarrassed, “I can’t believe I actually drank that much.”

“We were all a bit – overwhelmed from the job. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Eames replies carefully and Arthur knows he’s trying to talk about the bathroom incident without really talking about it.

“Still, thanks for taking care of things.”

_For taking care of me_ , Arthur thinks grudgingly. He hates the thought of being 'taken care of' but with Eames it chafes a little less.

“It was my genuine pleasure darling. I got to spend time in your lovely uninhibited company. To me, it was a night well spent.” Eames almost purrs.

Arthur flushes not knowing what to say. Eames is a persistent flirt and normally Arthur is able to counter with a quick retort. After last night, though –

“I confess though, checking on you isn’t the only reason I’ve called.” Eames continues.

“Yes?” Arthur prompts after Eames’ pause.

“I’ve had a call about a job and I find myself in need of your services.”

“You got a call?” Arthur asks surprised.

“That’s what I said,” Eames replies, clearly amused.

“I know,” Arthur snaps, “it’s just – “

He’d never heard of a client contacting a forger directly for a job. They contacted an architect or a point man who would decide if they needed a forger. Most clients didn’t fully understand dream share enough to know what forgers were, let alone how to contact them.

For Eames to have gotten a call directly –

“It’s a bit of a specialized job – that’s why they came to me. The target is a werewolf and they don’t want to bring in an outsider.”

A werewolf as a mark – that’s a first.

“Where’s the job? Who’s the mark? What are we extracting?” Arthur asks quickly going into full work mode.

“London,” Eames replies, unfazed by Arthur’s rapid fire questions, “I’m at the airport as we speak. I can’t disclose all the details over the phone – I told the client I’d be discrete and even though this is a secure line I’d prefer to discuss in person.”

“That’s not how I do things, Eames,” Arthur says sternly, “you have to give me something.”

“All I can tell you is that it’s for an Alpha family, so you understand discretion is key.”

An Alpha family, Arthur had read about them, the leaders of their pack Alpha's were fierce and largely secretive. What could they possibly need so badly they'd risk their privacy to bring in illegal extractors?

“I know,” Eames replies, “I know I’m asking a lot but it’s a sensitive job and you’re the only one I trust for this Arthur.”

Arthur flushes at that. He knew Eames trusted him but the confirmation is nice. He contemplates it for a moment. Normally he would have pressed more on the details of the job, insisted on them before committing to anything, but he trusts Eames too.

“I’m in,” Arthur says finally, “if you agree I’ll bring Ari and Yusuf in too.”

“Done and done.” Eames replies easily, “call me when you land in London. I’m dropping this burner after this call so use my permanent line.”

“Have a safe flight,” Arthur says, trying to decide if he still has time to go back to sleep or not.

“You too love. And thanks for this. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” Eames replies before hanging up.

* * *

 

Yusuf and Ari both sound as bad as Arthur feels when he calls but they are both quick to agree to the job.

He suspects, like him, they were both still reeling from Inception and needed the work to distract themselves.

Arthur can hear the excitement in Ari’s voice and he knows that she’s been hooked. He almost feels guilty, she’s a bright young woman with real talent, she shouldn’t be relegated to this world of crime and danger.

But he remembers his first time all too well and knows that once you get a taste of the dream world, there is no turning back.

Still, she’s new to dream share and Arthur feels a responsibility to take care of her. Cobb hadn’t been in a state to think things through but he’d put in her a lot of danger exposing her to dream share without the proper training. Especially the not so legal side of it.

Besides the fact that he’d brought her into the world and then abandoned her – well, Arthur can’t help but feel a certain symmetry in their situations.

So, he tells her to be ready at moment’s notice and that he’ll take care of everything.

An hour later, he’s freshly showered with has two tickets for London that night and his bags repacked and waiting at the door for him.

He lays back down on top of the sheets of the hotel bed, dressed in his suit and stares up at the ceiling trying not to think of anything at all.

* * *

 

Ari’s excited energy is a blessing in disguise Arthur decides as he walks beside her into the airport.

It’s a welcome distraction from all the thoughts still swirling in his head. He stops himself at least a dozen times from calling Cobb. He isn’t sure he wants to reopen that wound just yet.

They’d never talked about what would happen after but Arthur had always felt a sort of finality when it came to Cobb returning to his kids. Dream sharing held nothing but bad memories and danger for Cobb now and Arthur couldn’t rationalize bringing either around Cobb’s kids. The family deserves some peace – whatever little of it they can find.

After checking their bags and getting through security Ariadne insists on finding them something to eat and leaves Arthur sitting at their gate.

Arthur quickly checks his phone to be sure he had no messages from Yusuf or Eames. With no word, Arthur settles in to watch the other passengers.

A man runs by, clearly running late for his flight. A woman is trying to herd three small children and their luggage. An older couple is asking a security guard for directions.

Normal people, living normal lives. Arthur had been one of them once, a long time ago. But now he feels like he is watching a different species, their lives as foreign to him as if they were all werewolves.

He walks in their world but isn’t a part of it. These people no doubt have homes, friends, family, and jobs they could talk about with a random stranger. Sometimes he wishes he has all that. Dealing with Cobb, it was easy to forget how lonely the life he has chosen is.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a couple choices.”

Arthur looks up to see Ari plop in the seat beside him with a bag of bagels and two bottles of water.

“Thanks,” Arthur says trying to shake of his maudlin thoughts.

“You OK?” Ari asks looking at him searchingly, “You seemed lost in thought there.”

“Just thinking of the job,” Arthur replies fishing a blueberry bagel out of the bag.

Ari shrugs and munches on her own bagel, thankfully not pressing further.

Though he hasn’t known her long, Ari is quickly becoming someone Arthur feels comfortable trusting – and that isn’t a large group.

It goes a long way that they’d been through Inception together. That sort of experience has bonded them faster than years of other jobs could. The way she’d handled herself and the fact that she’d never once considered bailing on them despite her inexperience makes Arthur give her a grudging amount of respect.

That and the admirable quality that she knows when to keep her mouth shut.

* * *

 

It’s nearly 2 in the morning when they land and London is as dreary and wet as Arthur remembers it.

“Ugh,” Ari exclaims as they stand outside the airport waiting for a taxi, “why couldn’t the job have been in Hawaii?”

“Ask Eames,” Arthur grumbles. His neck is sore from the flight and he still has a lingering headache that he can’t shake off.

_We’ve landed,_ Arthur sends Eames a quick text.

Knowing the other man, he was no doubt awake.

_Gr8 ;) meet me at this address at 10 am_ , Eames replies within moments sending an address right after.

Arthur is almost regretting this decision. Maybe he should have taken some time off – laid low in the States for a while. It isn’t as if he needs the money, he’s squirreled away enough that – if he lives conservatively – he’ll never have to work again.

But if he’s honest with himself he knows the only thing keeping him in the States is the hope that Cobb might call. It has only been a day and he already misses the other man fiercely.

No, it’s better that he moves on with his life. Cobb is his friend but he isn’t everything to Arthur. Besides, he doesn’t do the job for the money. He loves everything about it – the excitement and specificity of it – and sometimes he even likes the people he works with. Maybe working his first job without Cobb will be enough to remind himself of that.

Finally, a cab pulls up and he and Ari climb in. They drive in silence to the hotel the only sound the rain and the slide on the windshield wipers against the glass.

By the time they get to the hotel and up into their rooms, it’s nearly 3 in the morning.

“Get some rest,” Arthur says as he drops Ari off at her room, “I’ll come by in the morning when it’s time to go.”

“It’s already morning,” Ari yawns and then shuts the door in his face.

His own hotel room is small and looks almost eerily like the one he’d just left earlier that same day. _Yesterday_ – he mentally corrects himself as he toes out of his shoes.

But then that’s what his life is now – an endless stream of nearly identical hotel rooms. Someplace to collapse into a bed with some sense of security.

It’s only in these rare moments of sleep deprivation and loneliness that he finds himself missing his childhood home – his shoebox room he’d carefully lined with all his possessions so that anyone who entered would know it was his.

Now all his worldly possessions could fit into one suitcase and anyone who walked into this room would probably never even know he’d been there.

He collapsed onto the immaculately made bed without undressing and promptly fell asleep.


End file.
